No relation to withered political dynasties, long-in-tooth San Francisco punk icons, or annoying ex-MTV conservatives, the frontman-songwriter and namesake of this LA-based trio spends his (very) early morning hours engineering Carson Daly"s daily radio show, Out of the Box. Whether it"s that gig"s inherent sleep deprivation or steady diet of trendy musical pap, something has clearly twigged Kennedy"s young mind, and the results froth from every track of this self-produced sophomore release. Chucking tired post-modernism for a spunky garage-rock ethos that arcs from the Kinks, the Who, and the Yardbirds at their snottiest to the artsy phlegm of Bowie and Warhol"s Lower Manhattan, Kennedy dares comparison between lo-fi dining and necrophilia, while thumping the snooty Lilliputianism of L.A."s Silverlake scene and offering frank personal insights. Its three-chord crunch alternates with jangly wedges of banjo, Hammond, mouth harp, and whizzo production touches, all of it in service of a successful effort to bypass decorum and Kennedy"s conscious mind; free your id and great rock will follow. --Jerry McCulley